


Slow Hands

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Series: Bucky Barnes Reader Insert Stories [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance, Smexy, Swearing, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 20:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Fic request for @fanfics-and-coffee based off the song Slow Hands by Niall Horan. Hope this satisfies the craving!!





	Slow Hands

## Bucky Barnes x Reader Request Fic

* * *

It was terrible how bad you had it for him. The amount of time you spent looking at him was becoming a problem. A big problem. A huge, _I can’t go a moment without catching a glimpse of you,_ problem.

It was all his fault, really. How was a girl supposed to get anything done around the tower when he was there with that smile and those eyes and the constant threading of those metal fingers through his hair?

James Buchanan Barnes was the devil in tactical gear. He was sin in a Kevlar vest. He was the God of the Murder Strut. He was _evil_!

You hated him even as you loved him. It didn’t matter that you’d been together for more than a year, the effect he had on you was instantaneous, and the little shit knew it. But tonight, tonight something was different. There was a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

Maybe it was the dress, navy blue and glittering with starbursts of sequins, forties esque in its wrapped style, the skirt full and flaring when you danced. Maybe it was the ring which sparkled from its place on the fourth finger of your left hand, newly placed and the reason behind the party you were currently enjoying. Maybe it was merely because you were a little tipsy and had taken to flirting outrageously with him when you chanced to cross paths.

You couldn’t say for sure, but when his arms wrapped around your waist, you melted into his embrace and swayed to the music. There was nowhere better, nowhere safer, nowhere you felt more cherished than right here, wrapped in the arms of the former Winter Soldier.

The deep blue of his button-down shirt complimented your dress, the dark slacks a little tight across the thighs, something you said was just the current style, but secretly you bought them just a touch too tight to see the thick muscle bunch and move beneath the fabric, strain it a little. The thought had you licking your suddenly parched lips.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, a sheen of sweat appearing on his flesh, the party the right level of hot. Just enough to make one think dirty thoughts about how sweaty you could get in another activity. A sensual one.

A pleasantly horizontal one.

Tracing your fingertips over his flesh, defined and veined, sexy and strong, you put a little extra sway into your hips, grinding your bottom against his groin.

“Darlin'.” The rumbled sound was low, deep, vibrating through your back, making you nearly purr with the pleasure it brought; a happy kitten being pet in just the right way.

“Bucky,” you sighed, ignoring the trickle of sweat which ran down the back of your neck.

His lips, however, pressed to your nape, tongue stroking gently, flicking the droplet off your skin.

A sultry moan whispered from your lips as your hands began to wander slowly over the parts of him you could reach. The warm skin of his forearm was caressed, stroked, the tender touch of your fingertips raising gooseflesh. You followed the dips and grooves, the plates and hollows of his metal hand and fingers.

“How much you had to drink, baby?” he asked, curiosity and mild concern in the words.

You smiled, the way he always cared for you endearing, but you ignored the question in favour of drawing your fingers up his thigh. A groan reverberated in your ear.

“Dollface,” he moaned, lips working over the length of your throat.

Turning into his chest, you stroked slow hands down his pectorals, nails catching on seams and buttons, trailing along like trickles of sweat, slow, slow, slow caresses to his waist. “We should take this back to our place,” you whispered as he drew you closer. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. I want you, Bucky.”

His arms tightened, drawing you in until you could feel him fully when you wrapped your arms around his neck, breasts plastered to his chest, the length of his erection pressing into your belly, thighs of steel rubbing against yours as he took you into a slow step and sway on the dance floor.

There was just enough beat to have the two of you brushing together, a press and retreat which drove you wild, made you ache, moan his name, hang onto him tighter. You could feel the heat rise, swelter between you, the sweat gathered to curl your hair and leave tendrils of it sticking to your temples when his hands began to move, slide, touch and caress. “Take me home, Bucky.”

The leisurely glide of your fingertips over his back, shoulders, the nape of his neck, had another delicious growl rumbling against your shoulder where his face was tucked.

“We’ve got all night, darlin'. All night,” he murmured, placing kisses up your throat. “I just want to take my time, savour this moment, remember every detail of the night you said yes. I’m not gonna stop them slow hands, sweetheart, just slow things down a little. I want you bad, can’t you feel it?”

A soft, sultry laugh escaped you. “Oh, I can feel it, soldier.”

“You got plans for me?” he asked, his smile easy to feel against your throat.

“Mmm,” you hummed when his lips skimmed your jaw.

“Not gonna stop your plans. Not leaving here without you on me, baby doll, but I’m gonna take my time with you, (Y/N).”

It gave you a wicked thrill to know he was just as affected by you as you were him. Sure you couldn’t take your eyes off him, but he couldn’t take his off you either.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pressed up on your toes, lips skating over his sharp cheekbone to hover at his ear. “I’d much rather take my fingers over your bare skin. Wouldn’t that be better? Just the two of us, all alone. I know you love it when I trace all the ridges of your abdominals with my fingertips or press my palms to your chest. How you like it when I run my fingers over your thighs, or dig them in as I lean back, arching over you, riding your-mph!”

His mouth closed over yours, savage and hard, thrilling, sucking and nipping your lip as he pulled you firmly into his hips. “Minx. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Still on your toes, mouth near his, you smiled soft and sweet and full of amusement. “I highly doubt it’s possible to die by orgasm overdose, but I’m willing to try.” With one arm wrapped still around his neck, you drew your fingers down his chest again, slowly, creating little paths and curls, feeling the beat of his heart jump with the movement until he groaned again, bent at the knees, and threw you up over his shoulder.

“Bucky!” you squeaked in shock, too surprised to struggle.

A loud cheer ran through the room as he stalked out, hand on your bottom and banding your thighs.

The view of his ass momentarily distracted you. This was not the way you usually got to experience the Murder Strut. It was an incredibly tantalizing position, and, once he was away from the other party goers, you gave into temptation, both hands sliding over the plump, firm, muscled rounds of his ass to which you gave a nice squeeze.

“Jeez! Fuck, woman!” he snarled, dropping you down his body and pressing you firmly into the wall. His hands caught your thighs, drew them up until they wrapped his waist. “You’re playin’ with fire, doll face. All your plans will be for nothing if you keep winding me up.”

Another smug smile spread across your face. “I want you beneath me, Bucky. Want to watch your face as I touch you. Slow hands, Bucky. Like you said, we’ve got all night. Gonna take my time, touch you everywhere.”

His blue eyes darkened to sapphire blues, gleaming with heat and lust, filling with love so swiftly it made your heart skip with how much you loved him. “So you’re not going to be a good girl for me tonight?”

You shook your head, biting your lip coyly. “Not tonight. Going to drive you wild, make you beg, make you crazy with how I touch you,” you teased, using a single finger to flick open the buttons on his shirt.

Metal fingers slipped beneath the hem of your dress, making you shiver with the sensation as they travelled up, up, up, to play with the elastic leg of your underwear. “You think so, darlin'?”

“I know so, baby,” you breathed against his lips.

“Gonna touch me with those slow hands?” he murmured, nibbling at your mouth as he rocked you into the wall.

A whimper exploded with the pressure against your sensitive core. “Touch you everywhere…” you moaned. “Soft touches, slow touches, a skim of contact. Drive you crazy.”

“Maybe I should just do that to you, baby doll, huh? Would you like that?”

Another moan fell from your lips as his flesh hand drifted up, feather-light touches over the back of your thigh before hooking into the leg of your underwear. Your breathing was ragged, knowing what was coming next, knowing you were going to get little to no sleep tonight. “I want you bad, baby,” you crooned, kissing him desperately. Your underwear ripped straight down the middle with the clenching of his fists. You gasped in excitement.

“Guess we’d best move this party to a more private local,” he chuckled, palming your now bare bottom.

“That’s right, Barnes… “ you moaned when his fingers slipped a little further toward your center. “I’ve got plans.”

“Long as you bring them slow hands, baby, I’m all yours.” He kissed your cheek, stroking his fingers over your wet folds.

“Always, always and forever, Bucky. Cause you’re my man.” The ring shining on your finger said so, and you would always bring the slow hands whenever he had need of them.

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
